


We Were Children Still

by kwonxiaoli



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fire Nation (Avatar), Fire Nation Royal Family, avatar mythology, dragons somehow became a major theme, like an unexpected amount
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 17:54:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11788344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kwonxiaoli/pseuds/kwonxiaoli
Summary: A child I may bebut I am - I am -I am a soldier still





	We Were Children Still

            It was beautiful. The sky looked as though it had been ripped open by the obtrusive rock roaring across its plane, leaving it to bleed out, screaming, writhing, and raging against the earth. The clouds were seeped in its crimson blood and when the clouds could hold no more the blood rained down onto the earth, filing the cracks of the scorched soil. And that obtrusive rock still soared on, carrying gifts to the Sun’s children, hell bent on painting the world with blood, until the children’s fire could burn no more. It was beautiful. As if the world was meant to be filled and broken by the great magnitude of the Sun’s power and by the power of all of his children. And so they raged, they raged, and they raged.

            The world was meant to burn. 

_Agni is the sun which watches down on us from the heavens._

            He first lived in the universe as the sun staring down at the earth, uninterested and unamused by the creatures crawling across its expanse, and only remained at his post for the sake of balance between him and the Moon Spirit. They were pathetic and weak, and they did not deserve to feel his presence, except as some omnipresent force they could never reach or understand. He was an eternal flame, never faltering and inextinguishable. He was power. He was passion. He was warmth. He was rage. He was life. 

            And these people did not deserve to breathe his flame. 

_He is the lighting which warns us that our enemies are near._

            Eventually he grew bored. The Moon, the Earth, and the Air Spirits all existed in the realm down below as he continued to watch from the Heavens. They loved the creatures which lived in the realm and nurtured them. The Moon gave them water, to quench their thirst. The Earth gave them soil, to grow their crops and to feast upon what delicacies the spirit had to offer. And the Air gave away its very being so they could fill their lungs. They loved those creatures so foolishly. They took the water until there was not a single drop left, they abused the soil until they could no longer reap what they have sowed into the ground, and they stole the air out of each other’s lungs in petty fits of rage. 

            He would not nurture them.  

            But he could terrify them. 

            He could come down into the Air Spirit’s territory and terrify them – show them his displeasure, his anger at the fact that he, such a great and amazing being, is required to watch over such pathetic creatures. And so he did with ferocious cracks of brilliant blue and white light which howled for all to hear his anger. 

            The pests called it ‘lightning’ and thought it a bad omen of things to come – of enemies drawing closer. For once, they weren’t wrong. 

_He is the one who taught the dragons how to breathe._

            He did not love the humans, as the other Spirits did, but he did come to love another creature of the realm. Dragons. Oh what fantastic beasts they were. They danced across the sky, reaching their bodies out towards the sun. Out towards Him. They were such beautiful and graceful creatures – they were also terrifying. 

            The beings his companions favored were terrified of the dragons, and so they hunted them. Killing them off as prizes, and testimonies of strength. He could not let such insolent beings eradicate something so beautiful. 

            And so he claimed those dragons as his own – and taught them how to breathe. They breathed his fire, his life essence, in marvelous streams of wild oranges, golds, reds, and blues. A sight no one on earth had seen before. With their breath they held his rage, his destruction, his warmth, and his life. He gave his dragons a piece of his very soul, a rite no other creature on this earth could claim. 

           They were creatures to marvel, and if you did not marvel them – you feared them. 

_And in turn the dragons taught us how to live._

           Most people were wary of the dragons, fearing the wrath they would endure had said dragons felt disturbed or wronged, and so they watched from a distance as the dragons occupied the skies and the mountain tops, filled with a combination of awe and terror. Yet there was one man who would climb to the top of the mountains and watch the dragons dance and praise the Sun – thanking Him for gifting them their breath, and after months of observations, the man would dance with them. He could only stare down at the man in awe, for the first time, since this realm was created, he felt love for a human. 

           The man never grew weary of his treks to stand amongst the dragons, no matter how much he aged. For this man loved those dragons, and thus His love for the man could only grow. So when one of His dragons died he endowed its spirit into the body of a child and gifted the child to the old man. Telling him that the child will live and breathe just as His dragons do, and that not only will they learn from the dragons, they will take their clansmen to the dragons and teach them as well. They will teach them to live and breathe as the dragons do, and will henceforth be referred to as the _Hi – nushi,_ the Fire Lord. 

            He wept when that child’s descendants ordered the dragons to be killed. 

_He is the one who endows us with such greatness – a greatness which is meant to be shared with the world._

           The thing about fire, is that fire is power, and power cannot be easily contained. Just like the flame, it demands to be spread across every corner of the earth until every man, woman, and child bows to it. No matter His moments of regret for bestowing the spirit of dragons onto the _Hinokoku_ he cannot deny that they are his children. They are the descendants of dragons, they are the embodiments of his spirit, they are fire, and fire demands that it be spread. 

           So he bestows upon them a gift of unimaginable power. The power to spread their fire as far as they can reach, burning everything in their path, reducing it to ash, for a new world and a new era to be born again from the ashes. A power which would only be bestowed on a rare few as it will only come every hundred years. The humans are of course ungrateful, reducing His gift to a mere legend during the interim period before and after its arrival. And when they remember His gift to them, they name it Sozin’s Comet, after the Murderer of Dragons. 

_May our children have a blessed birth underneath the Sun and his everlasting flames._

            The boy is born in the dead of night. He is not an easy birth, forcing the midwives into a terrified frenzy that he will die at any possible second, and eliciting rumors that even if it is a successful birth he will not survive to see his hundredth day before the umbilical cord has even been cut. The child must be cursed, He has not blessed him, he is a bad omen. So the boy rages in his cot as his mother has been sent back to her chamber and the midwives refuse to go near him, fearing what his untimely and sickly birth may mean for this nation. 

             He takes the boy just before the sun breaks and shushes him – telling him;

_Be quiet, be still. You are my child – the embodiment of_

_my dragons. You will suffer in your life, that I cannot_

_change, but your suffering will make you great._

             They name him Zuko – ancestors robber, and He laughs. 

             The girl is born when the sun is at its highest peak, and her eyes shine brighter, and more golden, than any other person who came before her. She does not rage as her brother had, yet somehow, even though she is but a mere babe, she has already commanded the attention and respect of everyone around her. So they rejoice – for she shows every sign of being a blessed child of the Sun, and the Sages predict a great future for her. She will be strong and wield such great power – that they will stand in awe of her and quake in fear when they have wronged her. 

             He smiles down at her – proud of the power and strength he has bestowed, and yet he still warns her:

_You will be more powerful than anyone has ever seen_

_but be careful of whose words you trust._

            It has been centuries since He has loved the children of His royal house. Their spirits are closer to those of the dragons than any other member of their house’s had been for generations.  The oldest stands firm, while paradoxically holding an air of gentleness about him like a cloak. He grew from cheerful adolescent into a strong, pragmatic military leader, under the tutelage of his father, who reminds Him more if the man who danced with His dragons, than anything else. His second, while admitably weaker and slower to learn than the other two, was loyal and fair, he would undoubtedly be a protector for his people. His third and youngest is clever and ambitious above all else, unyielding and unsatisfied with anything less than perfection, she will make this nation more powerful than before. 

_May we serve Him and may He protect us as his children._

            He screams.

            His oldest had died in a land unknown, he will never return home. He will never return to his father, his cousins, his crown. He is a faceless deformed body thrown in a mass grave among faceless victims of war. His father burns and empty pyre. 

            He was not supposed to be a victim – he was supposed to be a conqueror. 

            He screams. 

            His second is cast out, and left to rage against the world around him as he embarks on a suicide mission to find someone who has abandoned both the Spirit and Human Worlds. Logically he knows that he will probably never be welcomed home – but his heart still yearns for the honor he thinks he’s lost, and for the approval he’s never had. The smell of burning flesh will never leave his mind. 

            He screams. 

            His youngest has become a viper. Merciless and unfeeling in moments of corruption and political intrigue. She manipulates and controls those around her with an iron fist and snuffs out anyone who dares defy her. She may not acknowledge it – but she is also a pawn in this war, and she will be crippled by it. 

            He screams. 

            His royal house is crumbling. 

_We are the nation of the Sun and we will bring it glory._

            There is a beauty in those flames. There is beauty in destruction. Those blue an orange flames which howl across blood soaked skies, dissipating almost as quickly as they came alive, although not without destroying anything within a ten mile radius, are some of the most beautiful things He has seen in centuries. They are almost like a dragon’s breath, those flames were alive and they would not stop until they have breathed their last. 

            There was a sadness in them too. These flames were the life source of children. Not trained soldiers. Not generals and commanders who have spent their entire lives learning the ways of warfare, strategizing, and planning their next attack. They were children. Children who were supposed to be raised within the confines of palace walls – enjoying all the luxuries the world could give, and being blissfully unaware of the magnitude of destruction and suffering the war had truly caused.  They were supposed to be children. Not warriors. Not fighting like wild beasts broken and injured beyond repair, yet still unrelenting. They were not supposed to die here. 

            They were the embodiment of dragons.

            But they were children still.

            No one would cry for them. The children of the sun. 

            “I am sorry it had to end this way _brother_.”

             “No you’re not.”

 

I am a child still

born with a flame

that can shine brighter than the sun

A child I may be

but I am - I am -

I am a soldier still

and if me and all my men will lay down their lives

we will burn like the sun

for we are soldiers still

and we will gladly die for you

We are children of the sun

so take us to the place where the moon will never rise

and the sun will never set

we are children of the sun

but we are soldiers still

and if I am to die

I will gladly die for you

so take me to a place where I will never be cold again

take me to the place where only Agni roams

for I have gladly died for you

 

_He rages, and he rages, and he rages, until there is nothing left of his dragons._

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> And thus ends the first fan fiction I've written on this site, haha. I have no idea where this came from, but I was listening to covers of The Hanging Tree while reading angsty fanfics and this somehow ended up be born hours later. Please excuse/kindly point out any errors in the work since it isn't beta read. Also the formatting may be a little weird since I'm not really used to AO3 (so far the conclusion is - getting everything to look right is a pain in my ass).


End file.
